Cameo the Assassin

by Dawn McCullough-White

  “Then I guess I owe you.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that—”

  Lorelei kissed him on the cheek, then threw herself into his arms. “They killed my poor, dear sister. Her body is still in the carriage.”

  Bel’s expression was now one of curiosity. “You mean Black Opal had both of you with him?”

  “Yes. After he robbed my parents.”

  “What?” His face cracked into a grin, but Lorelei couldn’t see it; her own was buried in his chest. “That villain.”

  “Yes, but not so bad as the men who killed my sister. All the members of the Association deserve to die,” she said.

  “Hmm...well, you certainly have a point, dear Lady.”

  She eyed Jules suspiciously from a distance. “They should all die.”

  * * * * *

  Cameo was miles from the scene of the bloody fight in a matter of an hour. She was wandering around the town of Lockenwood at dawn. The tower where Wick lived was so close to her that she could’ve walked in.

  She sat down for a moment at the coach station and stared at the wanted posters, of Opal, Bel, and herself. There were a few others of Gail, and the infamous revolutionary Francois Mond, as well as a few other inconsequential people she had never heard of. She threw her head back against the wall of posters and tipped her chin to the sky as she eased back into the bench, exasperated. That was the moment that she realized she wasn’t alone.

  There was a figure standing to one side: a man, like a shadow looking down at her.

  Cameo leapt to her feet, pistol in one hand and a dagger in the other.

  He was gone.

  She turned with supernatural speed.

  There was no one behind her. Leaves were blowing down Haberdasher Street, caught on a wintry breeze.

  She spun around again.

  There were silver eyes an inch from her own.

  The assassin lifted her pistol, but whoever this was took it from her in one quick motion. Without missing a beat, she stabbed at him, but he was gone again.

  She turned around again, and he was there. Cameo took off running down the street, away from Wick’s tower, and ran into a rock-hard chest. The suddenness of it knocked her backward.

  Clutching her jaw, which felt a bit misplaced, she staggered to her feet. For a moment she thought that she was alone again. The town was silent and smelled of winter cold.

  She tottered unsteadily as she circled the same place on the street for a solid minute. Then as if he had been standing there on the street all along, the figure was back.

  He stepped from the shadows and into the moonlight at a human pace. His eyes looked like quicksilver, his skin was very pale, and he had an athletic build.

  “Hello, Cameo.” And a sensual voice.

  He touched his face, as if blushing, although she doubted he could.

  “No,” he looked up at her. “I’m afraid blushing is quite beyond me at this point, and I’ve never really thought of my voice as sensual, but I am flattered.”

  “You look more like you’re embarrassed.” Her fingers tightened around her dagger. She knew what she was looking at: a vampire. A vampire she didn’t know. That was probably very, very bad.

  He smiled at her and tilted his head to one side. His eyes searched her face as if interested in her supernatural quality as well. “I’ve been following you for some time.”

  “Oh really? And why is that?”

  “No need to be so defensive,” he said, motioning to her dagger. “I don’t mean you any harm.”

  She touched her jaw, “Right.”

  “Well, you did that to yourself. You did run in to me.”

  “Because you placed yourself in my getaway path.”

  He smirked, “True enough.”

  She studied his face. He really was very handsome. If someone had decided to trail her for a while she could have done quite a bit worse.

  He glanced at the ground as if uncomfortable.

  “Why were you following me?” she asked.

  “The bones, I’m afraid.”

  “You!”

  “Yes, I’m the one who took those,” he confirmed.

  “You have to give them back. Please? My Master is going to kill me, or one of my friends if you don’t—”

  “Cameo—”

  “I know I can’t win a fight with you. You’re obviously a vampire, but—”

  “Cameo, please.” His voice was sober, “I can’t stand to hear you plead. This isn’t who you are.”

  She could feel the heat rising to her face, “What are you talking about? You’ve been trailing me for a day or two, and you know me so well?”

  He was unimpressed.

  “I need those bones back.”

  “How long have you been a thrall to Haffef?” he said.

  A look of surprise crossed her face.

  “How many years?”

  She looked away, pained by the question. “I don’t know.”

  “He’s my Master too.”

  “You?” Cameo said, astounded.

  “Of course. How many vampires do you really think are running around Lockenwood?”

  “I never really gave it much thought.”

  “Just your own problems, hmm?” he said.

  “I have a few.”

  He motioned over his shoulder at the tower behind him. “Her? Really? I think you’re making her more of a problem then you need to.”

  “She is a witch.”

  He sneered. “That is not what I would term her. No, charlatan is more like it.”

  Cameo sheathed her dagger. “Then maybe you could help me get rid of her.”

  “Can’t. I really can’t stay here in Lockenwood too long.”

  “Or?”

  “Or the Master might stop by and then I would be in trouble. Besides, you don’t need me,” he said.

  Cameo retrieved a flask from her boot and drank down a shot of whiskey, then another. When she looked back in the vampire’s direction, he was still there, unfortunately.

  “Sorry to disappoint.”

  At least he was painfully handsome. That did take the edge off slightly.

  “It’s been good to make your acquaintance, Cameo. I rarely ever have anyone to talk to anymore.”

  She remembered her life prior to the group of dandies and misfits that she had somehow fallen in with and how lonely it had been, and so she could sympathize with him somewhat. Life had been easier before, though.

  “Just give your Master my regards. Tell him Edel says hello.” He bowed with a flourish that Opal would’ve envied and was gone.

  Cameo fell to the ground in a lump of self-loathing. She could see the sun coming up, and now she knew she would never be able to get Ivy’s bones back to Haffef. She never should’ve befriended that lot at all. Now, they were all going to die, one by one.

  Then, as she was sitting in the middle of Haberdasher Street, not a stone’s throw from Wick’s tower, the shrine bells began to ring.

  She got to her feet, uncertain of what was going on. Did someone in town recognize her?

  A few people came out of their homes, rubbing sleep out of their eyes.

  Cameo crept off of the road and into the safety of the forest.

  A sudden flurry of soldiers came riding up the street and followed the road up to the palace. Soon the locals crowded the street, headed in the direction that the soldiers had taken.

  She wanted to get a closer look but was certain someone would spot her, and then she would have a fight on her hands with some crowd that she wouldn’t be able to win.

  Cameo determined to look around a bit more for Ivy’s bones on her way back to her group. Bel certainly had things in hand there, so she wasn’t terribly worried about the state of Kyrian or Opal’s well-being.

  Chapter Nine

  “DONE AS YOU ASKED, Lady.” The assassin set a key down in front of Wick.

  “Quick and easy, Chadvick.” She grinned at him. Her teeth were grossly uneven and stained
with pipe smoke.

  He wondered what exactly some of the other assassins saw in her that could possibly be so appealing.

  “You may have a promising career ahead of you.” She set a small pouch in his hand.

  He weighed it gingerly, then opened it up to have a look at his booty. “Are you trying to tell me that you have another job lined up?”

  She lit her pipe with her shaking hand and scorched some of her own hair accidentally, although she didn’t seem to notice. “I always have work for someone with real talent.”

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with Cameo and Gail, does it?”

  “What if it does, my boy?” she asked.

  Pindray watched in amused interest as he set down a folder in front of Wick. “Can I get you another drink, Lady?”

  “Anything for my friend?” She motioned to the assassin.

  “Uhh...no, I’d better not.”

  “Never know what Pindray might stir into that drink, ay Chad?” She chuckled.

  He laughed it off.

  Wick motioned for Pindray to leave and opened up the folder before her. “You’ll be staying with us for a few days before I send you out, so you might as well make yourself at home. I have a room set up for you, and of course you’ll have access to the tower where Cameo used to reside. Have a look around up there so you can get a clearer picture of who she is,” she attempted to relight her pipe now that it had gone out suddenly. “At least that’s my advice to you. Take from it what you will ... just an old woman’s ramblings.”

  “As I understand it, you’re a bit more than that.”

  She coughed up some phlegm, then swallowed hard. “Oh, you must’ve heard something I haven’t.”

  He took a step back, a bit disgusted by her.

  She motioned toward his face. “Doesn’t that scarf ever come off?”

  He touched it absently. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s just not so pretty to look at.”

  “Well then, I wouldn’t be so disgusted by an old lady like me,” she said.

  “I see.”

  “I take it you heard those rumors that the woman who ran the Association was a witch?”

  “Yes, that’s right.” He tucked the purse into his shirt.

  She sat back in the velvet cushions of the chair. “That I could sway my assassins to do my will?” She looked up at him with a foggy old woman’s eyes. “That they would do my bidding for free if I asked?”

  Her eyes were blue, and her face was tan and young. She gazed at him, smiling a cunning little smile, inhaling pipe smoke. Her long auburn hair cascaded down around her breasts...somehow that formless smock she had been wearing was gone, replaced by the sheerest white silk.

  “You really don’t need that booty I paid you. You have room and board here, and you have me. I can guarantee to fulfill all of your wishes, Chad.”

  He reached into the folds of his shirt and retrieved the purse vacantly.

  She took it from him, running her graceful fingers over one of his black gloves. “Wait, before you go, why don’t you show me your face?”

  Without hesitation, the assassin unfurled his scarf so that she could see the damage there, which was so shocking that she released the spell she had on him.

  Her beautiful visage melted away, revealing the hag she had always been, and Chadvick gasped as he realized that he had nearly fallen for her wily charms.

  She threw his loot back at him hard. “Take this! I don’t want it. You’ll work for money, like a few of the others do.”

  “What?” he said, still reeling from the charm that had been cast on him.

  She motioned for him to put his scarf back on and get out.

  * * * * *

  Bellamy climbed into the empty carapace of the carriage that Black Opal, Lorelei, and Kyrian had been on when they were ambushed by assassins from the Association. The carriage was leaning against a group of trees, and one door was hanging open. Within lay the corpse of Lorelei’s sister, her face and half of her head were blown off.

  He put a hand to his face. The stench was overpowering. There was blood and pieces of Claire’s brains and face clinging to the interior walls and once-lovely velvet cushions.

  Bel spied Black Opal’s shoulder pack and snatched it from the vehicle; he expected to find some food and the make-up that Opal was whining about inside, but once he opened it up, he found a cache of treasure at the bottom; the valuables that he stole from Lorelei and Claire.

  The highwayman glanced around and pocketed the loot himself, then wandered back over to Opal.

  “Here’s your pack,” he said, dropping it down next to the fop. “I thought you might want that.”

  “Thank you, dear boy,” Opal said quietly. He had been looking up through the tree boughs at the sunlight, after having fallen asleep on the ground exactly where he had collapsed the night before. “How’s Kyrian doing?”

  Bel glanced over at the lad, who was still lying the mud. “Oh yes, I should check on him.”

  Opal sat up wearily, irritated at Bel for spending the night apparently talking to Lorelei instead of helping him and Kyrian. He rummaged through his pack for some bread and a bottle of wine. The bottle had apparently taken it hard when the carriage was jostled around: It was in pieces. His pack was terribly stained and smelled foul. Probably best that he hadn’t imbibed of that particular vintage, he thought to himself.

  He bit down on the stale bread, ravenous as he pulled out his small, cracked mirror.

  “Damn,” Opal touched his face. He could feel the stubble on his chin and he looked at the makeup smeared across his face. “That’s terrible,” he muttered to himself.

  There was a sudden strangled cry from Jules’ direction.

  Bel raced over to the prisoner before Opal could actually see what was happening.

  “Let go of her,” Bel demanded.

  Jules, with his leash still tied to a tree, and his hands bound in front of him, had his hands around Lorelei’s tiny throat.

  “I don’t think so,” Jules hissed, clamping down on her neck.

  Lorelei cried out in pain.

  Bel took a step back.

  “Don’t go anywhere or I’ll kill your little friend here.”

  The highwayman mentally searched his body for weapons.

  “Help me, Bel,” she whimpered.

  “Yes, why don’t you start by untying me?” Jules’ voice was hard. “Untie me or she dies.”

  Bel looked into Lorelei’s eyes, “What were you doing over here?” He glanced down and saw a dagger lying on the ground.

  “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you, Bellamy,” Jules warned.

  Their eyes met.

  “Yes, that’s right. She didn’t just accidentally wander into my path. She was trying to kill me.”

  “I, I can’t breathe....”

  “Sorry,” Jules smiled. “Unintentional, I assure you.”

  Bel glanced down at the hands strangling Lorelei, and the bonds that Cameo had tied at his wrists.

  “That’s it, Bellamy.”

  He looked up at Jules, annoyed, but started to pull the knot from his bindings.

  “Release the lady, you lout,” Opal said sternly; he was on his feet now, drawing his rapier on Jules. The point was an inch from the assassin.

  Bel turned to find Opal standing beside him, rapier in hand. He looked a bit weak, but he could still deliver his lines rather well.

  Lorelei looked at him hopefully.

  “Or what? You’ll pass out on me?” Jules sneered.

  Opal swayed but drove the rapier into Jules’ chest fast, then removed it with a brutality that came from desperation and then he cried out as he fell to the ground.

  Jules was also screaming and trying to staunch the blood, which was nearly impossible because his hands were tied so tightly to the tree; he had to release Lorelei and kneel down in order to reach the wound.

  “You bastard!” he shouted at Opal.

  Bel ki
cked Jules in the stomach a couple times while he was down.

  Black Opal crawled on his belly on the floor of the forest, clutching his wound, his teeth gritted in pain.

  “You’re the bastard!” Lorelei yelled at Jules, holding her neck tenderly.

  “Why did you try to kill him?!” Bel rounded on her.

  “You gave me the idea!”

  “Me? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Don’t you realize you could’ve gotten us all killed?”

  “Well, why didn’t you do something?” she said.

  “What could I have done? I had no weapons on me.”

  Lorelei stormed off, and Bel followed her.

  Jules pressed his forehead against the tree trunk, curled up in fetal position, laying right on top of that dagger.

  Opal rested his cheek against a fallen tree and lost consciousness.

  * * * * *

  It was early evening when Cameo strolled back into camp. She looked down at Kyrian who was still lying in the mud, in the same clothes that he had been in yesterday. She knelt down by his side; he was unconscious and had a fever. She stood and surveyed the area. Opal’s things were lying around the spot where she had left him, but he was gone. Jules was slumped against a tree, hanging from his bonds.

  “Jules?” Her voice was austere.

  He didn’t move.

  She lifted his head by his hair; he was out cold as well, and a bit paler than usual. Then she noticed the blood oozing down his chest from a wound near his collar.

  In the distance she could hear a heated debate. Standing up, she could see Bel and Lorelei.

  A moment later, she was standing in front of Bellamy.

  He seemed shocked by her sudden arrival. Lorelei was visibly terrified. She moved behind Bel.

  The assassin searched him with those half-dead eyes. “Where’s Opal?”

  “Opal? Oh, um...I think he’s around here somewhere.”

  “Why is Kyrian still in those wet clothes? Why didn’t you change him into your old clothes and get him out of the mud? How is he supposed to heal other people when he’s sick? And now he has a fever.”

  “Uhh...I …. Well, I don’t know why you think I’m to blame—”

  She pushed him hard. He fell down.

  “Where’s Opal?”